Nicholas Sparks - The Rescue

Before she caught him staring at her, Taylor shook his head and turned away, wondering again how he could have overlooked her beauty that night. A moment later Denise was back in front of him, Kyle now standing beside her. Kyle’s expression was glum, caught with his hand in the cookie jar and all that.

“Sorry about that. He knows better,” she said apologetically.

“I’m sure he does, but kids always press the limits.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

He grinned. “No, not really. Just my own. I don’t have any children.”

There was an awkward pause before Taylor spoke again.

“So I take it you’re in town for a few errands?” Small talk, nothing talk, Taylor knew, but for some reason he was reluctant to let her leave.

Denise ran her hand through her disheveled ponytail. “Yeah, we needed to grab a few things. The cupboard was getting pretty bare, if you know what I mean. How about you?”

“I’m just here to pick up some soda for the guys.”

“At the fire department?”

“No, I only volunteer there. The guys who work for me. I’m a contractor-I remodel homes, things like that.”

For a moment she was confused. “You volunteer? I thought that went out twenty years ago.”

“Not here it hasn’t. In fact, not in most small towns, I imagine. As a general rule, it’s not busy enough for a full-time crew, so they depend on people like me when emergencies come up.”

“I didn’t know that.” The realization made what he’d done for them seem even greater than before, though she wouldn’t have thought it possible.

Kyle peered up at his mother. “He’s hungry,” he said. (Eez hungwy)

“Are you hungry, sweetheart?”

“Yes.”

“Well, we’ll be home soon. I’ll make you a grilled cheese sandwich when we get there. Does that sound okay?”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s good.” (Yes, ess good)

Denise, however, didn’t move right away-or at least not fast enough for Kyle. Instead she looked at Taylor again. Kyle reached up and tugged his mother by the hem of her shorts, and her hands automatically went down to stop him. “Let’s go,” Kyle added. (Wess go)

“We’re going, honey.”

Kyle’s and Denise’s hands engaged in a little battle as she peeled his fingers away and he tried to grab the hem again. She took him by the hand to stop him.

Taylor stifled a chuckle by clearing his throat. “Well, I’d better not keep you. A growing boy needs to eat.”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” She gave Taylor an expression of weariness familiar to mothers everywhere and felt a strange sense of relief when she realized he didn’t seem to care that Kyle was acting up.

“It was good seeing you again,” she added. Even though it sounded perfunctory to her ears-all part of the “Hi. How are you? That’s good. Nice seeing you!” routine-Denise hoped he could tell that she actually meant it.

“You too,” he said. He grabbed Kyle’s helmet and gave it a shake as before. “And you too, little man.”

Kyle waved with his free hand. “Bye-bye, Tayer,” he said exuberantly.

“Bye.”

Taylor grinned before heading toward the refrigerators along the wall to get the soda he’d come for.

Denise turned toward the counter, sighing to herself. The owner was immersed in Field and Stream magazine, his lips moving slightly as he perused the article. As she started toward him, Kyle spoke again.

“He’s hungry.”

“I know you are. We’ll be on our way soon, okay?”

The owner saw her approaching, checked to see if she needed him or just her groceries, then set his magazine aside.

She motioned toward the bags. “Would you mind if we left this here for a few minutes? We have to get some other kinds of bags that loop over the handlebars.”

Despite the fact he was already halfway across the store and pulling a six-pack of Coca-Cola from the refrigerator, Taylor strained to hear what was going on. Denise continued.

“We’re on our bikes, and I don’t think I can get this all home. It won’t take long-we’ll be right back.”

In the background her voice trailed off and he heard the manager answer. “Oh sure, no problem. I’ll just put them behind the counter here for now.”

Soda in hand, Taylor started toward the front of the store. Denise was shepherding Kyle out of the store, her hand placed gently on his back. Taylor took a couple of steps, thinking about what he’d just overheard, then made up his mind on the spot.

“Hey, Denise, wait up. . . .”

She turned and stopped as Taylor approached.

“Were those your bikes outside the store?”

She nodded. “Uh-huh. Why?”

“I couldn’t help but overhear what you told the manager and . . . well . . .” He paused, that steady blue gaze holding her motionless in the store. “Can I give you a hand getting your groceries home? I’m heading right by your place, and I’d be happy to drop it all off for you.”

As he spoke, he motioned to the truck parked right outside the door.

“Oh no, that’s all right. . . .”

“Are you sure? It’s right on the way. Take me two minutes, tops.”

Though she knew he was trying to be kind, a product of a small-town upbringing, she wasn’t sure she should accept.

He held up his hands, as if sensing her indecision, an almost mischievous grin on his face. “I won’t steal anything, I promise.”

Kyle took a step toward the door, and she put her hand on his shoulder to stop him. “No, it’s not that. . . .”

But what was it, then? Had she been on her own so long that she didn’t even know how to accept other people’s kindness anymore? Or was it that he’d already done so much for her already?

Go ahead. It’s not like he’s asking you to marry him or anything. . . .

She swallowed, thinking of the trip across town and back again, then loading up all the groceries to transport home.

“If you’re sure it’s not out of your way . . .”

Taylor felt as if he’d achieved some sort of minor victory.

“No-it’s not out of the way at all. Just let me pay for this and I’ll help you carry your things to the truck.”

He returned to the counter and set the Coca-Cola by the register.

“How do you know where I live?” she asked.

He looked over his shoulder. “It’s a small town. I know where everyone lives.”

Later that evening, Melissa, Mitch, and Taylor were in the backyard, steaks and hot dogs already sizzling over charcoal, the first vestiges of summer lingering almost like a dream. It was a slow-moving evening, the air bruised with humidity and heat. The yellow sun hovered low in the sky just above the stationary dogwoods, the leaves motionless in the still evening air.

While Mitch stood ready, tongs in hand, Taylor nursed a beer, his third of the evening. He had a nice buzz going and was drinking at just the right pace to keep it that way. After catching them up on what had been happening recently-including the search in the swamp-he mentioned that he’d seen Denise again at the store and that he’d dropped her groceries off.

“They seem to be doing fine,” he observed, slapping at a mosquito that had landed on his leg.

Though it was said in all innocence, Melissa gave him the once-over, eyeing him carefully, then leaned forward in her chair.

“So you like her, huh?” she said, not hiding her curiosity.

Before Taylor had a chance to answer, Mitch cut into the conversation.

“What did he say? That he liked her?”

“I didn’t say that,” Taylor said quickly.

“You didn’t have to. I could see it in your face, and besides, you wouldn’t have dropped her groceries off if you didn’t.” Melissa turned to her husband. “Yeah, he likes her.”